


Landing Party

by thegirlwhoknits



Series: We Learned the Sea [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Exhibitionism, Gate Crashing, Gratuitous Quoting of Doctor Who, Happy Ending, M/M, Mating Rituals, Outdoor Sex, Ritual Public Sex, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwhoknits/pseuds/thegirlwhoknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is finally eighteen, and he and Peter are ready to officially become mates. However, there's one part of the ceremony Peter hasn't been entirely forthcoming about...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The afternoon of Stiles’ eighteenth birthday, Peter turned up on the Stilinskis’ doorstep to ask the sheriff’s permission to mate his son.  It was one of the most awkward conversations of the werewolf’s life (topped only by explaining to Derek how Laura had died) and definitely the most awkward of John’s.

“I guess I should have been expecting this,” the sheriff sighed as he waved his son’s boyfriend inside.

Peter offered him an uncomfortable smile as they sat at the kitchen table. “I know it’s very important to Stiles to have your blessing and your presence at the celebration afterward.  He’s inviting Melissa as well.”

“The celebration afterward? What about the ceremony itself?”

Peter shifted awkwardly in his seat. “The ceremony is a Pack-only event; some of our traditions can be…unsettling to humans.”

The sheriff looked worried. “It’s not dangerous, is it?”

“No, not at all,” Peter reassured him. “Because I’m not an Alpha, the mating bite won’t present any danger of either turning or killing Stiles.  It’s a shallow bite on the wrist, just deep enough to scar.  Because he’s human, his half of the bite will be made with a wolfsbane-coated knife, so it will actually hurt me more than it will hurt him.”

“Good. Not that I want either of you to be hurt!” he added quickly. “In fact… I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for Stiles over the past year. He’s been more grounded than I’ve ever seen him, his grades are improved, and he seems happier. And I know you’ve been protecting him during those ‘Pack emergencies’ he doesn’t like to tell me about.  I won’t pretend this situation is what I had in mind for him, but you make him happy and keep him safe, and that’s all I can ask.”

“Thank you,” Peter replied gravely. “I fully intend to do that for the rest of his life. You’ll be there then?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Lydia’s setting the whole thing up, so she’ll let you know if she needs anything.”

“I’m sure she will,” John said wryly, showing Peter to the door.

Peter turned to him just before he stepped outside. “And Sheriff Stilinski— Thank you for everything. Your son has really changed my life; I don’t know where I would be without him.”

The sheriff smiled grimly. “Well, let’s never find that out.”

 

Lydia had transformed the refurbished Hale house into a sparkling wonderland.  Strings of Chinese lanterns and electric lights illuminated the backyard, swaying in the warm spring breeze.  Melissa and the sheriff were busy in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the mounds of food for the celebration afterward.  The ceremony itself would take place at moonrise, in a clearing about a quarter mile from the house, isolated enough for privacy.  Except—

“Why am I wearing this again?” Stiles tugged at the white robe his mate had slipped over his shoulders. “There isn’t some kind of baptism element to this, is there?”

Peter chuckled as he tied the sash around his own, identical robe.  “No, Stiles, we’re not going to ritually drown you. The mating bite is the only injury either of us will sustain.”

“I recognize that trademark Peter Hale double-speak.” Stiles squinted at him. “What are you not telling me, Peter?”

The werewolf gave a long-suffering sigh that implied he was deeply wounded by his mate’s disbelief. Stiles didn’t buy it for a second.  He glared harder.

“Fine,” Peter relented. “The circumstances under which the mating bite is given require us to be…naked.”

“Wait, what? What circumstances? Why naked?” Stiles sputtered.

“The mating bite is traditionally administered while the bond is being consummated.”

“Cons—you mean sex,” Stiles said flatly. “We’re supposed to have sex? Outdoors, where the whole Pack can hear us?”

Peter suddenly seemed very interested in examining his claws. “Technically, where the whole Pack can _see_ us.”

“WHAT?!?”

 

Throughout the house the werewolf members of the Pack winced. Lydia grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter was glad he’d insisted on getting ready early, because it took him almost fifteen minutes to calm Stiles down enough to explain.

“It’s traditional, Stiles. It signifies the Pack’s recognition and support of the bonded mates, as well as offering them protection during a vulnerable moment. Once the mating bite is given, the consummation can’t be stopped before its completion, for any reason.  The Pack’s presence ensures that.”  Peter stroked his hands up and down his mate’s arms as he spoke, listening to Stiles’ heartbeat gradually settle.

“Peter, I don’t know if I can do this,” he admitted nervously. “I mean, a little exhibitionism is one thing, but _Scott_ will be there.”

“I promise you won’t even notice we’re not alone,” Peter purred in his ear.

Stiles laughed quietly. “That confident, huh?”  He gave Peter a quick kiss, then rested his head on his mate’s shoulder.

“Really, though. One of the reasons the Pack needs to be there is because we won’t be very aware of our surroundings.  And given the way everything else between us has gone, a little backup can’t hurt.” He wrapped his arms around the younger man and tried not to feel like he was grasping at a life raft. “Stiles…”

At the sound of uncertainty in his mate’s voice, Stiles pulled back slightly and looked at him closely. “Yeah, sugarbuns?”

The despised pet name failed to get a reaction for once. Peter’s eyes crinkled in a worried frown.  “You still want this, right?  I know it’s a big step, and if you’re not ready…”

“I’m ready,” Stiles said firmly. “I’m so ready, Peter, you don’t even know. I want to be with you in every way possible,” he flushed slightly at the implications of that, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to have a family with you, I want—” He stopped when Peter’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a little.

“You…want to have a _family_ with me?” he said softly.

“Well, yeah, creeperwolf. What could be better than a little army of minions for us to train up to take over the world? Well, maybe not an _army,_ ” he added with a smirk. “A squad?”

His mate pulled him in for a deep, almost crushing kiss.  By the time they pulled apart, Stiles looked a little dazed.

“Whoa, save it for the ceremony, buddy.” He gave Peter a brilliant smile. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you’re in favor of the idea.”

Before Peter could show him how very much in favor of that idea he was, Lydia called up to tell them it was time for the ceremony to begin.  On the bright side, Stiles didn’t smell nervous anymore.  He reached down and gave his mate’s bottom a pinch for good measure, and they headed downstairs.

 

Instead of the traditional bonfire, the ritual clearing behind the Hale house had been lit by lights strung through the tree branches. Peter and Derek still weren’t completely at ease around open flames, and no one wanted to attach negative associations to the mating ceremony.  The Pack stood in a ring around the outside of the circle; in the middle of it they’d laid several thick wool blankets on the ground, covered by a large cotton afghan.

Stiles stood across from Peter in the middle of the blankets, flexing his bare feet nervously against the fabric as Deaton approached them with the ceremonial knife.  Since Stiles couldn’t administer his side of the mating bite with fangs, he would cut a shallow wound across his mate’s wrist instead. The wolfsbane oil on the blade would ensure that Peter had a scar to match his.

He was profoundly grateful that werewolf culture was action-oriented, so there were no vows to memorize or recite.  Grasping the smooth wood of the knife handle tightly with his right hand, he held out his left for Peter’s wrist.  “Do you accept me as your mate?” he asked.  He was proud of the fact that his voice came out clear and calm.

“I do,” Peter replied firmly. Gritting his teeth, Stiles made a quick, shallow cut along the inside of Peter’s wrist. The werewolf winced but didn’t make a sound as blood flowed from the cut, the wolfsbane keeping it from healing instantly.  Deaton took the knife back, and Peter held out his hand for Stiles’, an echo of the offer he’d made two years ago in the parking garage.

“Do you accept me as your mate?”

“I do.” Peter raised Stiles’ wrist to his mouth, his wolfish smile making Stiles shudder with sudden arousal.  He cried out as his mate’s fangs pierced the skin, more in pleasure than in pain.  He was beginning to see what Peter meant when he said they wouldn’t be aware of their surroundings; he barely noticed when Scott stepped forward and pressed together their open wounds, the act of an Alpha cementing their bond.  He wrapped their wrists separately in cloth bandages before returning to his place in the ring.

The Pack sent up a joyful howl, and then everything else faded away under the urgency of Peter’s kiss.  Their robes were quickly shed and forgotten as Stiles tried to get his hands all over his mate at once.  Everything felt twice as intense as usual; now that the bond was being made physical, he could feel Peter’s perspective as well as his own as if they were interchangeable.

Everything in him felt driven by instinct and need, the human part of both of them overwhelmed by the roar of Peter’s wolf, entering and claiming its mate completely after being denied for so long. There was no way to hold back, and no sense of time—just the two of them, biting and licking, and then Peter fucking into him roughly, gripping the nape of his neck with his teeth. 

Afterward, Stiles would be grateful for their shared healing ability as he stared at the shredded and bloody blankets around them. But at that moment all he could do was cling to them, claws extending into the fabric and retracting again as Peter’s wolf ebbed and flowed between them. The surge of power was incredible, more powerful and intoxicating than anything he’d felt during months of practice channeling his mate’s abilities.

Peter finally thrust into him deeply with a long growl, and they howled in unison as shared sensation sent them over the edge together, into blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

Thankfully, Deaton had fresh robes for them to wear back to the house, because the original ones were shredded.  After shrugging his on, Stiles risked a peek at Scott out of the corner of his eye. His friend was talking to Isaac, but waved Stiles over when he caught him looking.

“Hey man, congratulations.” Scott grinned sincerely, even if he went a little pink around the ears. “I mean, I could go the rest of my life without ever seeing that again, but I’m really glad to see you happy.  Peter…well, things turned out a lot better than I thought they would, and I’m glad.”

“Thanks, Scott. And thanks for being willing to officiate; it means a lot to me to have your blessing.” They gave each other a one-armed hug before Stiles allowed Peter to drag him back up the path towards the house.  Lydia had sternly informed him that they would have _no more_ than a half hour to get cleaned up before the party, or she’d come get them personally.

To be on the safe side, they showered and dressed separately in the suits Lydia had picked out for them, keeping their hands to themselves until they descended the stairs. Then Peter slipped his fingers through Stiles’ and squeezed; his mate responded with a shoulder bump.

The entire Pack was there to welcome them, as well as friends and family—pretty much anyone who’d been read into the whole werewolf situation.  Chris Argent was chatting comfortably with Melissa and John as they stepped out on the patio.  They were greeted with whoops and hollers (Scott was, predictably, the loudest) before Lydia called everyone to order with a sharp whistle.  Derek stepped forward, looking a little nervous. Isaac and Danny started chanting, “Speech! Speech!” until Allison silenced them with a glare.

Scott gave Derek a little shove. “OK, ummm… I guess I’ve been elected to make a speech because Scott officiated the ritual.” Derek cleared his throat uncomfortably. “And probably because he thought it’d be funny.”

Scott’s smirk did nothing to disprove that theory.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I guess I was as dubious as anybody about this relationship when you sprang it on us, but I think everyone here can agree that it’s worked out better than we thought possible.  You guys balance each other out: Stiles, you give Peter a reality check, and something to hold onto and care about, which I think he really needed.  And Peter, you’re Stiles’ anchor.  You keep him from drifting too far from reality, and also remind him that he is loved and appreciated and important, when the rest of us forget that it needs to be said.  I’m really glad you found each other, and I’m happy to welcome you as the Hale-McCall Pack’s first official mated pair.  Whatever happens, you will always have the full support, love, and protection of the Pack behind you.”  He stopped speaking, looking a little embarrassed.

Stiles didn’t realize his mouth was hanging open until Peter reached over with a fingertip and closed it.  “I’ve…never heard him say so many words together before.”

His mate chuckled. “And you probably never will again.”

Isaac and Danny chose that moment to start chanting again. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”  This time it was picked up by the rest of the crowd, except for Scott and John, who were intently examining the food table.

They obliged, and Stiles was struck by the same slightly dizzy sensation he’d had during the mating ceremony, of being both in his skin and Peter’s at once.  Peter’s arms wrapped around his waist and supported him as he drew back. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“I feel it too, now,” Peter said wonderingly. “Is that how it’s been for you all along?”

“Less intense, but the basic idea’s the same, yeah.” They stood there, staring at each other, until Stiles’ stomach broke the mood with a loud rumble.  Someone had turned on the sound system, and relatively inoffensive pop music mixed with the sound of happy conversation.  Peter led his mate over to the food table and they loaded up their plates.

 

They’d finished eating and were lying on the grass watching Allison and Lydia attempt to teach Melissa some dance moves when a high-pitched shriek rang out over the yard.  Stiles jumped to his feet immediately, a grim look on his face.  He snapped his fingers and the shrieking stopped.  Pulling Scott aside, he told him, “That’s my early-warning system for unknown humans entering the territory.  My secondary defenses should stop them about a mile from the house; can you send Isaac and Derek to pick them up and bring them here?  Peter and I will get everyone else under cover in the meantime.”

Scott nodded and jogged off to talk to his Beta and co-Alpha.  He and Stiles had discussed the magical defenses for the property a few meetings ago, but this was the first time they’d been tested.

“How do you know they’re human?” Peter asked over his shoulder.  Stiles didn’t jump—apparently another side effect of being mated was that the werewolf would never be able to sneak up on him again.

“The alarm for non-humans sounds more like an air-raid siren.  Help me get the non-combatants into the house?”

Fifteen minutes later everyone was under cover except for the Pack and Chris Argent.  Claws were out and weapons were drawn as they waited tensely for Derek and Isaac to return. Just when Stiles thought his nerves were going to snap the werewolves broke into the clearing, shoving two men dressed in camouflage, obviously hunters, to the ground.  One of them tried to stand back up, but Isaac kicked him to his knees with a growl.

Peter noticed the glint in his mate’s eyes, along with the small smile that meant nothing good for anyone opposing him.

“Peter, would you mind hanging back with Lydia and Allison? I want to try something, but it might weaken you temporarily.”

“You’re going to try shifting?” Peter asked. Stiles nodded slightly, and his mate looked concerned. “Shouldn’t you wait ‘til we’ve had a chance to try it under controlled circumstances?”

Stiles turned to him with a grin that made his stomach twist and his blood heat.  He loved seeing this side of his mate. Stiles could be as bloodthirsty as any wolf, mating bond or not.  “Trust me. This is gonna be _fun._ ”

Peter shrugged and went back to stand with the hunter and banshee, while Stiles whispered briefly in Scott’s ear. The Alpha nodded solemnly and gestured for Derek and Isaac to come stand with the rest of the Pack.  Stiles paced calmly toward the hunters, who were twitching like they were thinking of making a break for it.

Stiles just stood there, smiling, until one of them got up the courage to sprint toward the treeline. He made a sharp gesture, and both hunters were hauled up by an invisible force and left to hover a few feet off the ground.  They looked like they were about to soil themselves.

“Oh, I didn’t say you could go!” He grinned maniacally. “Since you’ve been kind enough to come to my wedding, I think I should greet you properly, don’t you?  C’mon, then! The Emissary will see you now.”

The hunters were moved forward a few feet, struggling wildly.  Stiles’ grin only got bigger and more frightening.  “Now, let’s get to why you came here, because I don’t see any wedding presents. What brings you into my Pack’s territory, unannounced and heavily armed?” He gestured to the pile of weapons Derek had dumped by the food tables.

He waited patiently until the bigger of the two screwed up his courage. “We came to put your _Pack_ down, like the rabid dogs they are.” He spat out the words as if they tasted bad.

Stiles shook his head. “And you thought this would be a good time for a couple of hunters to take on a Pack of seven, because we’d be celebrating. Off-guard. Vulnerable.  I’m sorry to say you miscalculated slightly; I, for one, have never felt _less vulnerable.”_ He shifted into beta form mid-sentence, growling out the last two words, and with his new werewolf senses he could tell that at least one of them actually had shit himself.

“How— That’s, that’s not possible!” the smaller one stammered. “Werewolves can’t do magic! Emissaries can’t shift!”

Stiles shrugged and casually examined his claws. “What can I say, I’ve never met a boundary I couldn’t push. So, you came here to ‘put us down,’ as you so eloquently put it.  May I ask on what grounds? I’m assuming, of course, that you follow the Code.”

“Of course we do,” the first hunter said indignantly. “We had reports that humans were being turned against their will.”

“Hmm. Interesting. Well, maybe we should ask for an outside opinion on that information.  Chris?” Stiles flicked his gaze over his shoulder at the hunter, letting his face shift back to human but keeping the claws.

Chris Argent stepped forward, gun drawn and pointed at the ground. “Yes, Emissary?” he said formally.

“Is this Pack a threat to the humans in its territory?”

“No, Emissary.” Chris looked a little amused, but managed to keep a straight face.

“Are the members of the Hale-McCall pack guilty of any crime, according to the Hunter’s Code?”

“No.”

“Okay. One more, just one. Is this territory protected? Because you’re not the first lot to have come here. Oh no, there have been _so many._ And what you’ve got to ask is, what happened to them?” The hunters dropped abruptly to the ground, and Stiles stood over them, looking feral even though his face was still human.

“Hello. I’m the Emissary. Basically… _RUN.”_ He shifted again and the last word came out on a roar, sending the hunters scrambling to their feet and booking for the trees.  As soon as they were out of hearing range, Stiles collapsed to the ground, howling with laughter.  Chris stood by, chuckling, and the rest of the Pack broke out in a cheer.

Scott reached down to give his best friend a hand up, shaking his head fondly. “Dude. Did you seriously just quote _Doctor Who_ at them?”

“I have,” Stiles panted breathlessly, “been waiting for a chance like that for _ages._ Did you see their faces?  No one’s gonna mess with us for _years,_ man. That was awesome.”

“It certainly was,” Peter purred in his ear. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’ve had enough partying for one evening. I’d like to take my ridiculous, amazing mate to bed now.”

Stiles leaned back against him, radiating happiness. “That is the best plan you’ve ever had, creeperwolf.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the official end to the We Learned the Sea series! I'll be opening another story with snippets from Stiles and Peter's married life later, but that's it for the main storyline. Feel free to drop me a line if there's anything specific you'd like a snapshot of from this 'verse, and I'll put it in my prompt queue. Thanks for your support and I hope you enjoyed the journey!


End file.
